


Another Sunrise

by CameoAmalthea



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoAmalthea/pseuds/CameoAmalthea
Summary: [Spoilers C2E97]This is not what Essek had planned. Not coming to care for the Mighty Nien, for Caleb. Certainly not being offered what felt like forgiveness and the chance of redemption.My take on Essek's thoughts at the end of Episode 97, with reflections on the past.
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 10
Kudos: 121





	Another Sunrise

_ “You know we have a limited amount of time, and I would love for you to see the sunrise...so-” _

A heavy silence hung in the air following Caleb’s threat. 

Essek wondered if the others were as surprised as he was at the threat. At how cold Caleb’s voice had turned, a dagger of ice. His blue eyes pierced Essek to the core. He knew that Caleb could be dangerous. He knew Caleb’s power quite intimately. 

He had watched Caleb interrogate the scourger. He had surmised that Caleb had been trained to be one of those assassins and had guessed at the source of his scars. Given all that the fact Caleb could kill was obvious. 

All the same, it had been hard to picture Caleb as a scourger. 

It was hard to imagine the Caleb that spoke softly and hesitantly, at times stumbling over words giving off an air of uncertainty, ending up as an assassin. The Caleb who spoke quickly when he was excited, eyes wide with passion for each new discovery that verged on childlike glee, didn’t seem the sort. He wasn’t prepared for Caleb, the same Caleb who was soft and gentle and liked to pet his familiar as if for emotional support and graced Essek with soft easy smiles, to be his executioner. 

Essek was even more surprised at how much it hurt him. It was only then Essek realized just how much he’d come to care for Caleb. More than the fear of death he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that could be grief for losing Caleb interwoven with the guilt he felt for hurting him. 

_ “Could we walk? Could you show me where you live?” _

Essek looked at Caleb and found he had to work to keep a smile from coming to his face. To wear the same mask of stoic disinterest he usually wore even though his heart began to flutter. 

“Sure, come with,” he said, gesturing for the man to follow him. His mind was already imagining a slow meandering walk and all the things they speak of along the way. He found himself picturing them walking side by side, his hand brushing Caleb’s hand. 

Then when they reached his house, perhaps Caleb would like to come inside? Would they end up talking late into the night about spells and experiments? Why did this human man feel like the partner he’d always needed?

“I’m coming too!” said Beau. 

He looked at her in unabashed surprise. Also, he didn’t recall inviting her to join. His momentary musing evaporated.

Still, he could not show his disappointment or annoyance at her intrusion. He could not even afford to show it bothered him because he did not want to draw her suspicion. She had watchful eyes, that one. Always watching and too clever for her own good. Did she suspect him? Was that why she jumped in so quickly to ensure he and Caleb were not alone?

_ “If there is a reasonable explanation, we would love to hear it.” _

How could he possibly explain? He hadn’t meant to hurt them. He hadn’t even known them when it started. He owed them, owed Caleb, an explanation now although he could not know if they would find it reasonable.

So Essek began to speak, glancing between the group as he spoke, but most often letting his gaze fall on Caleb who stared at him intently. Caleb wasn’t part of the plan. 

The way Essek’s heart seemed to break when Caleb had chimed in “yes  _ friend, _ what are you doing?”

There had always been so much pain in Caleb’s eyes. Essek had surmised that this man was quite familiar with betrayal. Essek would never have betrayed him now, never had hurt him. The problem was that he’d been lying from the start. It hadn’t mattered then. He hadn’t cared then. Caring had never been part of the plan either.

He tried to put it all into words, but they came clumsily to his lips. He had never cared for anyone before...had never had real friends before The Mighty Nein. Never had anyone who sparked in him a kinship like Caleb. When all you had to look out for was yourself you never worried about regret. Regret was a useless emotion. Regret was trying to avoid what had already happened. It was futile and he had always chosen to focus on being effective. Unemotional.

He could not cut himself off from emotion when it came to them, to Caleb.

_ “I don't know if you want it or not, but I'll be staying around for the end. I consider you a sister still, even if you don't share the sentiment.” _

_ "Well, I've always been a little impatient." _

Essek had stood watching the interrogation, watching Caleb more than anything. There was very little to read in the Scourger but to read in Caleb’s eyes. Then, in an instant, Caleb was covered in blood.

It happened so first, a blur of action: he stabbing, Caleb quickly trying to fight her off with whatever was on hand, Jester and Caduceus rushing forward to him out of there, the guards springing to action. White-hot-rage filled Essek, burning through the fear. He stepped forward, reaching out with his magic fueled by rage, and lifted the assassin, her body already full of arrows, like she was a rag doll. 

“Wait!” Caleb’s cry, as soon as the arrows were loosed from their bows.

He had moved to crush her as soon as Caleb was out of the way, his hand moving forward seconds after the arrows hit. Before Caleb had time to cry out he had moved in for the kill. As soon as Caleb’s word registered he stopped. He did not release her. She still hung in his grasp, eyes widened, practically popping out of her skull as she choked. Blood poured from the corners of her mouth. However, he did pause, refraining from choking the life from her completely.

He looked to Caleb and his gaze held a silent question. “Do you want me to kill her?”

Caleb came forward, walking close to the prisoner, his face mere inches from hers as he stared into her eyes. Essek’s hand remained extended, holding her aloft with the force of dunamancy. Then Caleb held up one hand and clenched his fist, a signal to Essek. 

Essek mirrored Caleb’s motion, closing his hand into a fist, but harder, ruthless, and through the threads of magic he felt her body crumble beneath his grasp. Her entire central torso crushed inward, the very metal of her chains bent and snapped with the force. Then he dropped the mess limply to the ground.

He had killed before, as his work for the dynasty required. He had been responsible for many deaths as a result of his clandestine collaboration with the empire. The former was merely duty the latter a consequence he had not foreseen because he’d been too young and stupid to anticipate the full repercussions. He had never wanted to kill someone. Before death was simply unavoidable, an order to follow, the consequence of a choice that could not be undone and that he did not regret, for what other option had there been? Yet at that moment, when Essek saw the blood pouring from Caleb’s wounds gushing from his throat with each heartbeat, he wanted to kill. Inside his calm, cold exterior was fury, and he reached out with all his anger.

And on Caleb’s word he had stopped and only on Caleb’s word had he killed her. He had never been so willing to follow orders, to do this for someone else. It was at that moment that Essek realized there was a part of him that would do anything for Caleb.

An urge to protect Caleb which made Essek think of Caleb as  _ mine.  _ An urge to obey Caleb, which made Essek realize that it was he who belonged to Caleb, Essek was  _ his. _

_ “You listen to me. I know what you are talking about. I know. And the difference between you and I is thinner than a razor.” _

Caleb lowered himself to Essek’s level, kneeling before him. His hand cradled Essek’s face, holding his gaze so that he could not look away as he spoke.

Essek did not know what Caleb had done as a Scourger. What terrible deeds made him willing to call the one they’d taken prisoner sister moments before she’d stabbed him. But Essek has judged that whatever pain Caleb was more than he could imagine and had told him as much once, in not so many words.

_ “I may not be 120 years old, but I understand a little bit,” _ Caleb had said then. Even then making connections between the two of them. The irony was Caleb had no idea how young 120 was for an elf. He was a schoolboy at 8, an adolescent kid at 20, what humans call teenagers starting at 50, and only oh so very recently an adult at age 100. But Essek had not pointed that out at the time. Rather, he tried to make Caleb stop selling himself short.

_ “I’ve seen those far older than you have experienced maybe half the pain I see in your eyes.” _ Caleb had joked about comparing notes. Essek wished that they had had that chance. He wished he could understand the pain Caleb felt, the things he had done. They had never had the chance to reach that point, but Essik knew enough to know that Caleb thought himself no better than the assassin who’d tried to end him in that cell. 

Caleb thought himself no better than Essek. 

A mirror.

Caleb did not understand. Whatever Caleb’s past crimes, he could not compare. And Caleb went on, and on...And all Essek could do was shake his head slightly no when inside he was screaming. I am not like you. No one made me this way. I was angry, frustrated at the limitations of my society and desperate for the freedom to push the boundaries of what I could learn. It was necessary heresy, breaking the yolk of dogma and religion in the name of knowledge and truth. It was the stupid youthful rebellion of a ‘gifted’ boy caught in between childhood and adulthood, disaffected and eager to make bad choices. He had never considered the consequences. He’d gotten in over his head. 

And he should have known. Ninety years old was not a child. Not an adult, not quite, but old enough to know better. And he was supposed to be a prodigy, a genius. He knew there would be consequences, and should have been able to guess the scale. The Dynasty and the Empire had hated each other for centuries, for as long as they each existed. Peace was always tenuous, balanced on a knives edge, and he had committed the ultimate sacrilege and left the Empire to blame.

Sure, it took a few decades for all-out war to break out, but he should have known it was inevitable. Couldn’t Caleb see he was beyond saving?

Then the man put a hand on his shoulder, gripping him and still leaning in so close that with each word he spoke they shared the same breath. Breath, Caleb used to beg him on his knees. Caleb should not have been the one begging! Essek did not deserve this supplication. If anything Essek should be the one begging, except he was well aware he did not deserve their forgiveness. 

How could he make him understand? Essek’s life was forfeit. He put it as plainly as he could. If anyone knew the truth he was a dead man, and he would not ask them to keep his secret and condemn themselves with him should it ever be revealed. He did not desire nor disserve their trust. He did not ask their forgiveness. He did not want to put them in danger. 

How could he make Caleb understand that he was not worth saving-

Then Essek felt the press of Caleb’s lips against his forehead, no distance between them now as Caleb spoke in a desperate whisper. “Maybe you and I are both damned, but we can choose to do something and leave it better than it was before.”

Essek found himself silenced, unable to think or speak or comprehend this forgiveness which was not so much offered as given, unasked and undeserved but given freely whether or not Caleb should or if Essek even wanted it. His mind had been racing, but now, for a moment, all was silent. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes and he slowly released the breath he had not known he had been holding until that moment.

“You weren’t part of the plan,” said Essek. Loving someone. Hurting that person. Being offered forgiveness and acceptance despite all of it. None of that was part of the plan. And now, now all he wanted was not to hurt Caleb, not to hurt any of them anymore. He had to make them understand the danger they were in...all the favor they had gained in the Dynasty, their happy ending as the heroes who ended the war. All of that would be for nothing if anyone knew they’d protected the traitor who’d started it.

He tried to make Caleb understand...He should not - _could_ _not_ put himself and his friends at risk for someone like Essek. He tried to tell him that they were in terrible danger, but Caleb’s response came at once. Without hesitation. 

_ “Then so be it.” _

**Author's Note:**

> This assumes Essek wasn't the one who gave the scourger the knife in the first place...
> 
> Maybe I'm too charitable. But like, he was the elf equivalent of 18 when he started all this. Yes, there's a difference between 18-year-old Beau starting a bar brawl and Essek starting a war, this goes beyond simple teenage mistakes, but I think he was just as stupid, impulsive and reckless and didn't really understand how far in over his head he was or the full repercussions...Not that it matters to Essek, he thinks he deserves death for it but also doesn't want to die *shrug* 
> 
> At least that's how I see it


End file.
